A Not so Conventional Rapunzel Story
by Ed-LOVER-92
Summary: In which "Rapunzel" isn't dumb and helpless, and the "prince" has much less to do with the plot... but is still awesome. Prucan and USUK, hints of Francex Spain and GerIta


The Story of "Rapunzel" and his Awesome "Prince"

The story of Rapunzel, my friends, is oft… _exaggerated_. It begins, accurately enough, with two people, a man and a woman, a husband and wife, expecting a child. But that's when things become… distorted.

They were by no means poor, and, while our mother does have an awful craving, the conversation she has with her beloved runs a bit more like this:

"_Cher_, I am 'aving an awful craving, would you mind terribly running out to buy me a bit of Rapunzel?"

"Si, I'll be right back!"

And he was an honest man, who actually did buy the stuff (and not from a witch). But the market he went to was crowded with all sorts of people, and when he was spotted as a moderately wealthy individual, a heavy drinker and distinctively lower class individual couldn't help but think, "I hate this, but that man may pay my next tab, da?"

The Spaniard (for that's what the man was) had been especially aware that day, however, and when the large Russian approached to pick his pocket, he noticed the shadow and turned around. However, the stranger wasn't going to be deprived so easily, so he introduced himself and offered to show him a place where he could get it fresher next time he came to town.

This is how the father fell in with a bad crowd.

Just a couple of months later he was boasting about his beautiful French wife and the adorable little blond boy she bore him. It was only about a week after his "friend" had lost his job, and times were tough all around, so he asked if he could come by to congratulate them and see the child, and, having earned the husband's trust some time ago, he readily agreed.

The Russian, you must understand, was not a bad person. When he took the baby, it was an act of pure desperation, and he didn't even have the heart to sell the boy, though he knew he would have fetched a fair price. Instead, he left him on a doorstep, knocked, and ran.

The door was opened mere minutes later, and yes, by a _sorcerer_ (where they got witch is beyond us, honestly), who was astounded but quick to take him in. Not knowing the history or origin of the child, the sorcerer Arthur gave him the name Matthew and cared for him as his own.

Matthew's childhood was happy, if a bit odd. He knew from very early on that Arthur wasn't really his father, but treated him as such anyway. The man was very… unusual, to say the least. His sorcery was fun when it didn't go strangely awry, he couldn't cook much worth eating, and he spent a lot of his time helping people escape human trafficking. This was how Matt met everyone he knew, because his surrogate father never let him leave the upper floors of the house.

The boy had asked why once, and it seemed reasonable. "There are a lot of slave traders after my throat, Matthew. I don't want them to try to use you against me, or to sell you away. There are also a lot of just crude, dangerous people out there who would love to take advantage of a handsome young boy like you. There are weapons even I try not to think about, and diseases that do horrid things to peoples' bodies. Please, _please_ just stay in where you're safe."

At that age it had been simple and he had been happy to agree and stay in, but this was also about the time when he decided to start growing out his hair.

Still, Matthew was happy; he wasn't even lonely. Arthur had another, slightly older adopted son, although the boy still acted more like a stray, and the two of them grew very close, to the point that they were nearly always together. And, really, what were they supposed to do but play together in such a big house? Sometimes they were rough and broke things, but Arthur said that it was okay, that normally children would be able and allowed to play outside, and that the damage they caused was the price he paid for not letting them leave freely. Alfred, the other of the adopted brothers, almost seemed to take advantage of this. Matthew often heard the halfhearted scoldings he got every other day or so from their all-too-patient guardian.

Slowly the boys grew into young adults. Violent attacks and raids on the house over the years shook Arthur to the core and made him constantly insecure, but, as he frequently said (more to calm himself than anything), "at least no one was hurt." This was due, in part, to Matthew's hair, which now reached the ground outside a second story window. In a stroke of brilliance, the clever man had installed a sturdy hook on the inside of one of them which could hold his braid in place like a rope to be climbed down. Countless people owed their lives and freedoms to his ingenuity.

Alfred once wanted to abuse it.

"_Hey, Mattie! Don't you wanna go outside? Let me climb your hair down!"_

"_Arthur doesn't want us to leave, Al."_

"_If you don't let me, I'll find my own way out!" he said, childishly sticking his tongue out._

"_I won't let you," he stated bluntly, turning to leave._

"_Aww, you're no fun!"_

_He came back a little later to investigate what odd sounds his brother was making, only to see a mattress folded almost in half and stuck in the window._

"_What on Earth do you think you're doing?" the younger asked incredulously, his brother giving a huge shove and letting the mattress land on the ground below with a loud "fwump"._

"_I told you I'd get out, didn't I? Now I can just jump!" He climbed onto the window sill and flashed a grin at the other before slipping out. Shocked, the long haired teen ran to the window, only to see Alfred getting up and dusting off, having rolled into the dirt. The man laughed and gave him a thumbs-up, then turned and walked towards the woods. Finally, Matt regained his senses._

"_I'm telling Arthur! You get back here!" he called angrily, receiving only a faint "tattle-tale!" in response._

_When their adoptive father returned, he literally threw the reckless boy into the upstairs hallway, shouting every foul thing he could think of, screaming himself hoarse at his charge, tears flowing freely down his face, going to pieces until his knees finally gave out and his voice cracked and he was left sobbing desperately on the floor. They recognized the surprise and fear in each other's eyes when they met briefly; neither had ever seen the man reduced to such a state. After a moment or two, Al came forward and knelt next to him, wrapping his arms carefully around his chest and jolting back when suddenly clung to. The younger of the two returned to his room, still uneasy, to think._

Since then they'd been locked in even tighter, and although his older brother was restless and could still leave fairly easily, he didn't. Matthew also noticed he now spent most nights in their caretaker's room.

Of course, he was restless, too. There wasn't enough to do in this house; even learning Arthur's magic had its limits, and he was thinking about leaving himself. What little and brief company they got in the house just wasn't enough anymore, so imagine how nice it was to hear a loud, friendly, and obviously German "Hey! You!" while leaning out the window one morning.

He cast his eyes down toward the voice. It was an albino.

"Yes?" he asked politely, "Was there something you wanted?"

"Not really, no, it's just that you look like someone an awesome person like me could hang out with!"

Smirking at his arrogance, Matthew replied, "Good luck with that, I can't come down."

He didn't miss a beat. "Then I'll come up! Toss me a rope! And don't try to tell me you don't have one; I can see that rig in there!"

In spite of himself, the trapped man chuckled. He checked to make sure his door was locked, then came back, hooked his hair, and tossed it down. The albino grabbed it, but hesitated.

"What's this thing made of, anyway?"

"Human hair," Matt called down, trying to creep him out a little. "My hair, to be exact. Still wanna come up?"

"You know I do!" he shouted back, firmly grabbing the braid. Struggling, he made it about ten feet up and lost his footing against the house. The other was openly laughing.

"Having trouble?"

"Shut up! Like _you_ could do it!"

"Better than you!"

"Nobody's better than me!" he asserted aggressively, and in a momentary surge of energy managed to right himself and climb the rest of the way up. This was met with an appreciative whistle.

"A lot of people climb down, but I've never seen anyone climb up before. Not bad. What's your name?"

"Gilbert… damn, you weren't kidding! This really is your hair!" he said wonderingly, taking the braid off the hook and handing it back. "Who're you?"

"Matthew."

"Awesome. Mattie, you're gonna be my number one!"

That was how it started. Matthew learned quickly that he was Gilbert's only certain friend, and Gilbert learned that Matthew was truly trapped in there. It wasn't a secret within the house that the German was coming over regularly, and, while it made Arthur nervous, he said that it was fine until the albino tried anything weird, and then Matthew just shouldn't let him back up. To be honest, Gilbert tried weird things all the time, just not the type Arthur was thinking of. He tried chin-ups on the hair hook and acrobatics while climbing up (which got easier each time) and tried reading Matt's mind through body language and even tried cooking once or twice. But the captive boy was doing something much weirder.

He was becoming infatuated.

Gilbert was what he looked forward to more than anything else in his life, and Gilbert just kept coming further in and becoming a bigger part of it. He and Alfred got along like nobody's business, and, much to Arthur's surprise, he gladly assisted in the escapes of many passing former slaves and refugees. Matthew worried about him at times like those, but Gil was always back the next day, grinning like nothing ever happened. And even in his limited knowledge of human interaction, the younger knew his visitor was feeling the same. Every day he stayed a little longer, sat a little closer, smiled a little more, and after a year he wondered if the German was ever going to come out with his feelings when finally one night when he had reached the ground, he called, "Mattie!"

"What?" he asked, looking down at him in the low light. In response, Gilbert grabbed the end of the braid and pulled it over to kiss it. He grinned at the other's blush when he looked back.

"Love you!" he said, and started walking away.

"W-what? Wait, get back here! Come back right now!"

"Tomorrow, birdie," came the laughing reply, "Tomorrow."

"Aww!" the sudden close noise made him jump. Alfred was sitting on his bed, smiling maniacally. "Cute! Are you together now?"

Forgetting that his hair was attached to the wall, the blushing boy whipped around and accidently tugged it hard. His adopted brother jumped up and undid it for him, drawing the rest up through the window before shutting it and turning back to his stolen spot on the mattress. The smaller teen looked bewildered.

"I'm… not sure. I don't know. I guess I'll ask tomorrow."

"Arthur won't like that," Al warned him, but when his companion's head shot up, eyes wide, he added, "I won't tell him, don't worry. But he will find out, and he won't be happy, so just be thinking of things to say to him, okay?"

So he did. As it happened, he and Gilbert were still growing ever closer, but nothing was thought of it until they were sharing a bed… and more. Neither had ever considered that quiet little Matthew would be such a loud _screamer_, and that caused them problems in the form of Arthur banning him from the house. A much closer eye was kept on the younger brother from then on, and, as much as it pained Arthur, he gritted his teeth and installed bars on the window.

Nevertheless, his visitor returned day after day, and after a week, he finally got frustrated.

"I know he wants to keep you safe, but mein Gott, what was _I _doing wrong?" he growled, but then his voice softened. "Mattie, bird, I wanna bring you out to see the world! It's awesome! You're awesome! And you're an adult; can't you tell him it's time you left the nest?"

That night, he asked Arthur to please be let out, because he wanted to see Gilbert and be loved that way again, and really, he could take care of himself. His caretaker sighed, and, despite the fact that the man was now taller than him, gently cupped his cheek, looking tired.

"Matthew, you're such a sensible boy, much more so than Alfred. I'd hoped you would see how much better off you are here. Couldn't you stay, please? Stay and let me protect you?"

"I'm not a boy anymore, Arthur, I'm a grown man," he said sadly, "I can protect myself, and I want to be able to see him as I like and to travel and explore."

"… No. No, clearly you're underestimating the dangers that lie in wait out there. You'll not be allowed to leave, and that's final," he declared, a hardened look in his eyes. His charge did his best to match it.

"Strong words, for a man who needs Alfred to save him from himself." There was a second in which he almost regretted the words for the hurt he saw on the face that had so dutifully cared for him, and he made one final appeal; "At least take the bars off."

Responding so fast that it had to have been instinctual, his guardian simply said, "No."

The next morning, and very early, at that, Matt was roused quickly by the sharp clang of rebounding metal. Who was at his window but Alfred, diligently at work on the bars with a heavy looking wrench?

"A-Al! What–?"

"Shush!" he was chided softly, "You'll wake the old man!"

"Your lover, the old man?" the smaller boy prodded with a smirk. "Anyway, what are you doing going against his orders?"

The older smiled at him briefly before getting back to work; his brother noted that it was nearly finished. "There are times in this world when the right thing needs to be done, regardless of the rules. When Gil comes back for you, I want you to go with him. Only…" he hesitated both in hand and word, and looked back pleadingly, "Please come back to see us sometimes? If Arthur sees that you can come and go and be just fine, he might not be so scared anymore. And I'll miss you. We both will."

Matthew nodded mutely, gratefully, and watched him undo the last couple bolts and pull the construct free, setting it on the floor against the wall. Turning, he locked eyes with again with the younger.

"You'd probably better pack."

With another nod, the younger got a bag and started shuffling through everything in his room, trying to decide what to take, and finally settling on a few changes of clothes and some small personal effects, including a pair of scissors. They sat for a while, talking about wheres and hows, until a voice floated through the window; "Awesome, they're gone! Mattie, you up there?"

He and Alfred bolted to the window to wave at him, and his lover saw him hoist a bag out the window.

"Gil, catch!"

The albino did, with ease, and dug around inside for a bit before grinning up at them excitedly. "So you're really coming? Do you need me to go get a rope or something?"

"No, just get the scissors out!" he shouted down, tying the very end of his braid to the hook and tugging at it to check if it was secure. At the same moment they heard a shuffle from the other room.

Alfred stepped forward and hugged his brother, not knowing when he'd get another chance, then looked him in the eye and said sternly, "Stay safe."

"We will," Matthew responded confidently, and started the climb down his own hair. When he reached the ground, Gilbert kissed him gently and made quick, careful work of his hair. Then it hung free from the hook, and Alfred pulled it up into the window again, followed by the lovers' eyes. The older brother waved out at them for an instant, then the window shut and they were leaving.

That's the end of the story, as most people know it. No royal family or pretty castle to come home to (though Gil had a strict brother with an Italian lover– another story entirely), no dramatic comeuppance for the villain (since there hadn't been one in the first place), not even any significant amount of magic. Matthew came back about a month later, when he thought the shock might've worn off, and Arthur was overjoyed to see him safe and sound, and had already been making progress, thanks to Alfred's attention. From then they visited at least weekly, and Alfred and Arthur were eventually able to repay them in kind.

And THEN they lived happily ever after.

Except Matthew's real parents. They divorced.

Fin.

This happened when my mind decided that fairy tales made little to no sense and that somehow Hetalia could fix that.

Concrit, please!


End file.
